


Go To Sleep, Goddammit

by this_too_shall_pass



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Could be platonic, Cuddles, Disney, Fluff, Gen, Human AU, JK Scowling?? A+, M/M, Sleep Deprivation, The little mermaid - Freeform, Writer Virgil, god I'm so proud of my nicknames in this, i didn't write it that way but maybe??, no one is surprised by this, not on purpose virgil is just overworked, theyre at the end but they're there, tw food mention, tw swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 12:27:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_too_shall_pass/pseuds/this_too_shall_pass
Summary: Virgil needs to sleep. Virgil doesn't want to sleep. Virgil is Local Cryptid™.Roman is a hypocrite, but no one's talking about that because Virgil is going to work himself to death and Roman wants an excuse to watch a Disney movie.





	Go To Sleep, Goddammit

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I wrote this as a secret sanders fic for @officialwaterfairy on Tumblr. It starts out good and then I'm bad at dialogue.

There were two (2) things about himself that Virgil Calavera would go to any length to prevent his roommates from knowing. 

1\. His middle name. Keeping that a secret was easy enough, as driving made him too anxious to even consider doing something that would require him to show his driver’s license. He suspected Logan knew, mainly because what didn’t Logan know, and he was the one who talked to the landlord and filled out paperwork on the behalf of all four of them, and thereby most likely had seen a fair amount of Virgil’s records.

2\. The dread fact that, when Virgil was extremely tired, he got, as loathe as he was to say it, affectionate. Capital ‘a’, capital ‘ffectionate’. Not in the verbally affectionate way, oh no, that would be too easy. Rather, when he was sleep-deprived, Virgil was like a cat. An alarmingly cuddly cat. That was more difficult to hide, as Virgil had an oh-so slight (though Patton would certainly contest that) tendency to not sleep. 

 

Now, usually Virgil was aware of his tired self’s antics, and kept to his room when he hadn’t slept, though that may have also been because if he left he knew that Patton would find him, lecture him, and convince him to sleep with one of his Patton-tented (heh) Dad Looks™, and Virgil didn’t want the father figure to have to waste time parenting him.

Fortunately, on this particular night, Patton was out at work, as well as, to his knowledge, Logan and Roman. Knowing this, Virgil felt comfortable hauling himself away from where he had been editing his third draft for the last ten consecutive hours to stuff some sustenance in his food hole so his hunger pangs, which had been distracting him, would go away so he could retreat back to his room and keep revising. Of course, before he’d been editing his draft, he’d been writing it, which meant that over the last two and a half days, he’d gotten one, count it up, one, uno, one singular hour of sleep, so, as one could expect, he was really fucking tired.

Virgil slogged into the kitchen and opened the pantry, peering at the meager offerings it had to provide. A sandwich would require a measure of effort Virgil was unwilling to expend in his current state of exhaustion, so that was out. Was that a Pringles can? Yes, but it was tragically empty. _Damn it, Remy._ It wasn't even his apartment. He glanced at the rest of the kitchen. The bowl full of fruit that Patton insisted on buying was empty, and from where he was standing, he could see a cereal box stuffed haphazardly into the trashcan, ruling out that as an option. For a kitchen stocked by two different parental figures and the most high maintenance person this side of the century, there was shockingly little. Whatever, coffee’ would stave off the hunger. Damn necessary bodily functions. Alas, they were also out of instant, and as stated, Virgil was not in the mood to put time into his food. He wanted something quick and lazy, like the damn millennial he was. A random-ass tumblr post popped into his head, something about water tricking the stomach into feeling full. Virgil privately thanked god for the internet, helping sleep-deprived writers work since whenever the hell the internet was created. Virgil didn’t give a shit, he just wanted to retreat back to his room, so he could work, and his editor would get off his ass about deadlines. 

As he stepped away from the pantry, tearing his eyes away from the spot above the dust-gathering oven that he just now realized he’d been staring blankly at for the last minute, a decidedly unexpected voice sound came from the doorway between the living room and kitchen. “Fancy seeing you here, Johnny Depp-ressing. You’ve been in your lair for the last four days.”

Virgil grunted at the figure before him, before responding in a voice gravelly from disuse and lack of sleep. “First of all, Princey, don’t compare me to that asshole. Second of all, it’s been maybe three days since I came out. Maybe.”

The prince arched an eyebrow, his face displaying a look of… was that concern? Virgil had always assumed that Roman hated him, since all he ever did was give him insulting nicknames and mock his admittedly cliché style. Whatever, Virgil was too tired, and his deadlines were too close to bother with reflecting on the actions of the regal man still standing in the doorway. As he considered this, he didn’t notice Roman opening his mouth to speak again, snapping his fingers in the emo’s face “Virgil? You there? You’re staring at me.”

Virgil snapped back out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good. And if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work,” He attempted to push past Princey back towards his room, ready to call this excursion a failure and get back to work. Instead, he bumped directly into Roman, who was now blocking Virgil from getting to the stairs, and thereby his room and his laptop. So, ignoring his tired lizard brain telling him how warm Roman was, he squinted up at the taller man and tried (operative word being ‘tried’) to push him out of the way. “Dude, let me through. I have shit to do, my revised draft is due in a week and I’m only through chapter five.” 

Roman pushed him back gently, placing a hand on each shoulder and taking a good, long look at Virgil’s present state of dishevel. Virgil would never admit it, but his Lizard Brain™ pouted at being taken away from the heat. “You, you self-destructive storm cloud, are going nowhere except to bed. God, when was the last time you slept? You look dead, Virgil,” Virgil opened his mouth to protest that he was fine, that he had shit to do, but Roman beat him to it. “I am perfectly aware that you have work to do, J. K. Scowling, but if you push yourself you will burn out, I can promise you. If you won’t sleep, then at least do something besides write. I know I’m hardly one to talk about creating too much, but this isn’t healthy, Virgil.”

God, Roman clearly didn’t get how editing worked, but whatever. “Fine, but I’m going to my room. I’ll just scroll through Tumblr for a while or something,” Virgil fibbed, ducking out of Roman’s arms, and walking to the staircase. “Happy?” 

Unfortunately, before he could get to the stairs, Roman grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “Oh no you don’t, Goth Dun. If you go up to your room, you’ll just go back to work. You need a break, Virgil. I’m not making this up to annoy you, I’m trying to help, so just let me Goddammit!” 

Virgil wrenched his arm out of Roman’s grasp and stalked over to the couch, crossing his arms like a petulant child as he sat. “Fine, Princey. I’ll take a break. If I can’t go to my room, what should I do? Twiddle my thumbs? Hunt for food that doesn’t exist?”

Roman displayed a grin that made Virgil wish he hadn’t said anything. “Why, Angstella McCartney, I thought you’d never ask!” Roman quickly walked over to the DVD case, humming to himself as he did so. After a minute of rummaging and awkward silence, Roman finally brandished a DVD in the air triumphantly. “Ah-ha! I knew the devil couldn’t hide from me!” He stood up and pivoted towards Virgil, still waving the disk. “Since you asked so nicely what you could do, I would propose that we watch a movie, so that I can ensure that Dad-vid Beckham doesn’t find you keeled over on your laptop because you, Sunshine, worked yourself to death. And for our viewing entertainment,” he turned and slid the disk into the video player, “A true classic- The Little Mermaid.”

Virgil groaned. He liked one (1) animated movie musical, and it was decidedly not the tale that Roman had decided was to keep him from ‘overworking himself’ and ‘keeling over’. Whatever. An hour or two couldn’t hurt too much, could it? And Roman was being far nicer than usual, and Virgil would hate to waste this window of kindness. “Fine, but I’m warning you, Brenin, if you start singing, I will yeet myself out the goddamn window.” 

“Roger that, Calavera,” Roman plopped onto the couch besides Virgil and winked at him. (Winked? What the sweet Mary mother of fuck?) “I suppose not singing is a fair price to pay for keeping you out of the hospital.” And with that, he clicked on the movie and the pair spoke no more.

However, as Virgil sat, only half paying attention, his Lizard Brain slowly took over, and he no longer had the wherewithal to fight it. Slowly, slowly, he gradually shifted closer to Roman, who was totally absorbed in the movie, moving so subtly that he himself didn’t even notice until halfway through the movie, when he found himself close enough to hear his roommate’s breathing. Virgil found himself wondering what the worst thing that could happen would be if he were to scoot just a tad bit closer. 

He was torn from his thoughts by a pressure around his shoulder. Roman had put an arm around him and was currently tugging Virgil into his side. At this point, Virgil made the wise, well-educated, well-thought-out decision to say, ‘Fuck it’ and leaned in, curling himself into Roman’s side and relaxing, and oh God Roman was so fucking warm, it was like sitting next to a heater, but who gave a fuck? Not him. He was warm, and his Tired Lizard Brain was happy, and Roman was carding his fingers through his hair, and Virgil was so fucking exhausted and so comfortable that when his eyes drifted shut, he didn’t bother stopping them.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all, she wrote. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!! This is my first fic in the archivesphere, so I am desperate for feedback.


End file.
